


Fields of snow

by amako



Series: Dead leaves and Withered Flowers [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Family Feels, Fictional Religion & Theology, Fugaku is trying his best, Gen, Holidays, No Uchiha Massacre, Snow, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amako/pseuds/amako
Summary: His sons are laughing and Fugaku feels like things are finally right.





	Fields of snow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sumigakure Winter Wishes 2018 (for pwnie3 on tumblr)
> 
> Technically part of the Dead Leaves and Withered Flowers universe, though no prior knowledge is truly necessary

Outside, the snow is a never-ending mantle of quiet and peace. It fell all day, silent, relentless, until every corner of the Uchiha Compound was covered in white. In front of the house, the snow remains undisturbed, but the streets are painted in little footsteps, marks of the children who played for hours before finding shelter in their home once the snow had slipped through every layer of clothing they had on.

In the garden of the Main House, now just as hidden by the snow as the rest of the Compound, are traces of something the house hasn't seen in years. For the first time since the Kyūbi attacked, Fugaku went out and played with his sons. There are piles of unused snow balls, the wonky shape of a dog Sasuke tried to build, the much steadier butterfly Itachi made.

In some places, the snow is muddy, where Itachi and Sasuke teamed up to make their father fall. They laughed so hard Fugaku didn't even have to try very much to drag them down with him. Then Mikoto came out to see what all the fuss was and they took her down as well, much gentler because of her prosthetic leg, but down all the same. The stump hurts her a lot worst in the winter, because of the cold and the humidity in the air, and they try to make her life as bearable as possible despite the circumstances.

They're getting ready, now. Fugaku is tightening Mikoto's obi around her waist, steady motions he's been doing for years now. His own kimono is falling delicately around his form, dark blue with silver leaves crawling up the hems. Mikoto's is similar in colours, but cranes are decorating the fabric in the same shade of silver.

Itachi is running after Sasuke, trying his best to get his brother to stay in place for more than a second. His kimono is flying behind him, half-tied and looking more like a cape than a proper attire. Itachi's is an exact copy of Sasuke's, dark blue with the Uchiha fan on the back, a pride in their clan's colour they just recently find themselves owning.

When they're all ready, offerings in hands, they make their way to the temple. Today is the Winter Moon. It's one of the only holidays they share with the other clans of the village, even if they go to their own shrine to celebrate it. It's always been Fugaku's favourite day of the year, and he's proud to be able to say that he's sharing it again with his family, after years of coldness and distance.

They celebrate winter, the snow that makes their village a sight of shimmer and happy smiles. They celebrate Tsukuyomi and the passing of the seasons, that time when days start to get longer again and they can enjoy a few more minutes of sunlight. For shinobi, who are perhaps the most pious citizens of Konoha, the Winter Moon is something more.

Because they know they can die soon, anytime during a mission or after from wounds left untreated too long, they pray and they devout themselves to gods they wish are listening. The Winter Moon is proof that they lived another year, that they came back to the village that nursed them and taught them what it means to be loyal to something greater than the sum of its parts.

Fugaku used to come alone, before his mother left him the title of Clan Head, before he became this man he sometimes can't recognize in the mirror. He went to the temple, young and humbled, the blood of his target still on his hand, his discarded T&I uniform trailing behind him and tainting the snow with red. He went and he prayed, for forgiveness and guidance, to say thank you for this new year of surviving and making the clan proud.

Then he married Mikoto and he dragged her to the temple every year, even when she was pregnant with Itachi, even when her leg was healing from the explosion and she was still adjusting to her prosthetic, even when she started sending him hateful glares for the way he treated his only sons.

One fateful winter night, he accompanied Hyūga Hiashi into a bar and got punched in the face by responsibility and the realization that he was actively spoiling everything that was good in his life, turning it into something rotten and disgusting.

A month after that fateful, life-changing night, and Fugaku is laughing at something Mikoto said, Itachi's hand in his own and Sasuke grabbing onto his hakama pants while they walk back to the Main House.

In every step he takes, he feels his sister's hand brushing against his back, his father's kiss on his forehead, his mother's blessing when she told him he was to become the next her and wasn't that a terrifying thought. He feels the love from all those people he lost, telling him he has only one shot at this and he should not loose the love from the people fate hasn't taken from him yet.

His hands are cold and his heart is warm and Mikoto is bringing him a cup of tea, her gaze blessing him, Tsukuyomi shining though her silhouette and he is suddenly blinded. Blinded by reverence and quiet surprise, slow realization that he has everything he's ever wished for and it took Hyūga Hizashi dying for him to see that, witnessing Hiashi's slow descent into grief and endless mourning to see time is running short and he can't miss his only chance at doing this _right_.

It's the night of the Winter Moon, one of the only holidays his clan shares with the rest of the village. His sons are curling up together on the tatami, legs under the kotatsu and he is drinking his sweetened tea, sweeter than he would ever admit he prefers.

His name is Uchiha Fugaku and it took him the better part of his life to figure out what he wanted out of it.

Now that he's found it in his wife's proud eyes and his sons' laughter, he finds that he can't quite let go.

Drinking his sweet tea, smelling like the incense from the temple, Uchiha Fugaku finds that he can't quite find himself minding either.

 


End file.
